


Stand And Deliver

by Suzie_Shooter



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Mild Peril, Past Lives, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-09 00:12:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4326300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzie_Shooter/pseuds/Suzie_Shooter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern day - Athos keeps dreaming of a house, and is more than surprised to find it actually exists. Not only that, but he's beginning to suspect he once lived there - several hundred years ago.</p><p>Sequel (sort of - I confess it doesn't really have much of what you might describe as actual plot) to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4001746/chapters/8988433">Gentlemen Of The Road</a> - reincarnation fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stand And Deliver

"And through here we have the kitchens." The young woman lead her party through a door off the main corridor into a room that appeared to have been decked out in a style that could best be described as generic-historic-domestic. 

Between the pack of shuffling tourists, Athos caught a glimpse of orange flickering lights in the hearth meant to evoke a comforting blaze with none of the associated health and safety risks, and a scrubbed wooden table bearing a painted plaster loaf of bread and a bunch of real but rapidly withering carrots.

He hung back from the main group and looked around. This house - he wasn't a man given to flights of fancy, but it was giving him the strangest feeling. He'd come here hoping to prove to himself that he wasn't going mad, but so far it wasn't quite the reassuring experience he'd hoped for. 

For as long as he could remember, he'd had occasional dreams about a house. The details varied, but it was always the same building, and over the years he'd built up a solid mental picture of it. This had never struck him as particularly odd, assuming it was merely his brain's way of structuring things - until one day in a dentist's waiting room he'd opened a six-month-out-of-date magazine and seen a picture of it. 

His house. Exactly as he'd imagined it, from the lake to the tower.

He'd have put it down to hallucinations from the anaesthetic, except he hadn't had it yet. 

Poring over the brief article, the house turned out to be a stately home and when he'd got home nursing a numb jaw the first thing Athos had done was look it up on the internet. At this point he assumed he must have seen a picture of it before somewhere, and his mind had simply latched onto the image, but as he scrolled through the pictures that came up, he couldn't suppress a shiver of recognition.

 _Had_ he been there, he wondered? Certainly not that he recalled, but perhaps as a very small child? It didn't seem likely, and he couldn't picture the circumstances that would have lead to it. His parents had very much been city people, and outings had been to parks and zoos and museums, not out into the countryside.

He'd tried to dismiss it as a curiosity of no real import, but that night had dreamed of the place so vividly that he woke up still able to smell woodsmoke.

Athos had decided the sensible thing to do would be to go and have a look at the place. It was open to the public three days a week, so he'd booked a room in a pub in the nearby village and driven out there.

He'd thought once he was here, he'd find it was nothing like he imagined, but that wasn't the case and his skin crawled with something that wasn't quite déjà vu.

To his frustration, not all of the house was open to visitors. It was partly a ruin, and only a few of the ground floor rooms were on the tour. Athos had seen countless photographs of these already, from well-lit publicity shots to blurry snaps visitors had uploaded to various social media sites. 

What he needed, Athos thought, was to see if the upstairs matched his mental layout. If the rooms he hadn't seen were as familiar as these, then - well, he didn't know what that would prove, but the temptation to find out was irresistible. 

He let the last few members of his party pass him, and ducked back along the passage, stepping over a red velvet cord with an out of bounds sign on it and sneaking up a flight of stairs.

Athos imagined his moment of trespass had gone unnoticed, but a man at the back of the group watched him disappear with a frown. Initially he looked across at the tour guide, hoping to catch her attention, but she was in the middle of explaining something about chickens to a circle of attentive faces, and he sighed. Making up his mind, he slipped back out of the door himself, and followed in Athos' footsteps.

Upstairs, Athos was wandering through dusty rooms with a puzzled expression. Empty of the set dressing applied to the public areas, these rooms were echoing and rather melancholy, but still perplexingly familiar.

Entering one chamber, Athos spied another door on the far side, and knew that according to his mental map, there should be a small storeroom beyond it. This would be the test, he told himself. If there was a corridor, or staircase, or room of equal size to this one on the other side then all this was a coincidence, and he could go home with nothing worse than a faint sense of embarrassment and relief that he hadn't shared his thoughts with anyone.

He crossed the empty room, wincing as the floorboards creaked underfoot and hoping no one below could hear him.

Unlike the other doors up here, this one refused to give under his hand and stayed stubbornly closed. Athos frowned. From the frame it looked like it should open inwards, and he wondered if it had been painted shut. 

Giving up now though was too frustrating, and before he'd really thought about what he was doing, Athos took a couple of steps back and charged the door with his shoulder.

Woodwork splintered as the metal pins the door had been sealed shut with tore out of the frame, and Athos lurched forward as the door burst open under his weight. To his horror, rather than stepping into another room Athos found nothing under his feet but fresh air. At some point during its history the room, which had originally projected out from the main building, must have fallen away into the lake.

Athos grabbed frantically at the door handle, just managing to get a purchase on both sides of the door and stop himself plummeting into the shallow water far below. 

He risked a glance downwards and immediately wished he hadn't. A fall from this height would mean broken bones at best, and could even prove fatal.

Athos tried to swing a foot up high enough to pull himself back inside, but the angle was awkward, and he missed. He could feel his fingers slipping on the sharp metal handle, and swore. His shoulders were screaming, and the door looked set to rip right out of its hinges under his weight.

At the very moment that Athos' strength and determination finally failed, hands reached out from the doorway and grabbed hold of his jacket. Panicking, he tried to transfer his grip to his unexpected saviour, but his cramped hands wouldn't close properly and he gave an involuntary cry as he dropped away from the door.

Now though, those hands had a solid grip on him, and instead of falling Athos found himself hauled back over the threshold and into the arms of his rescuer.

For a moment they clung to each other in shock, Athos hardly able to stand and gasping for breath. 

Eventually, Athos got his legs under him and pulled back, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Christ. Sorry. Thank you. I thought I'd had it there for a second."

The man, who Athos vaguely recognised as having been part of the tourist party, gave a short laugh of relief. "Me an' all. What the fuck were you thinking?"

Athos gave him an embarrassed smile, unwilling to share his reasoning on the grounds it would make him look even more like a nutter. "I was thinking there was a floor on the other side, for starters." He held out his hand. "I'm Athos, by the way. And I have no idea how to thank you for what you just did."

"Porthos." The man shook his hand with a grin. "And you don't have to thank me, I'm just glad I was close enough. I thought you were a goner." He leaned back out of the open doorway, making Athos wince and snagged the handle, drawing the door closed.

Athos' act of inadvertent vandalism thankfully hadn't broken the catch, just burst it open, and it snicked shut.

"We'd better tell someone this isn't secure any more," Porthos suggested.

Athos made a face. "Do we have to? I'll get a bollocking," he said gloomily.

"Do you want someone else falling out of it, thinking it's sealed?" Porthos countered mildly, and Athos sighed.

"No. No, of course not, you're right. Come on then, I'd better go and face the music."

They trooped back down the stairs, and found the tour guide waiting for them at the bottom, staring up at them with her hands on her hips.

"I _thought_ I'd lost someone. Can't you read, it's not open to the public up there. And I'm surprised at you," she added, giving Porthos in particular a reproving frown.

Porthos just grinned at her. "Keep your hair on Celine. Just heard a noise, that's all. One of the outside doors had blown open, the room above the kitchen. I've closed it for now, but you'd better get it seen to."

Celine groaned. "Oh, God. This place is falling apart." She unlocked a cupboard under the stairs and rummaged about amongst mops and buckets until she came up with a roll of hazard tape. 

"The rest are down there, in the dining room. Do you think you can manage to keep yourselves out of trouble until I get back?" She disappeared up the stairs without waiting for an answer, and Athos looked at Porthos in grateful embarrassment.

"Thank you. Do you - work here then?" 

"Me? Oh no, I just live here. In the village, I mean," Porthos added, seeing Athos' incredulous expression. "I moved in a few months ago. Figured I should get round to seeing all the attractions."

"Will that take long?" Athos smirked, and Porthos looked indignant.

"Oi! We seem to have enough to bring the likes of you here, anyway!" He grinned. "Actually, no, I have to confess there's not a lot else. There's a castle, but it's mostly a ruin."

They joined the rest of the group milling around in the dining room until Celine returned to resume the tour. As they filed back out into the sunshine Athos realised to his disappointment that the tower wasn't going to be part of it. It was hardly the tall slim turret of fairytales, more a squat, wide structure with some kind of observation room at the top, but he had a burning desire to go up it.

He hung back until the last of the group had stopped asking Celine questions and seized his chance.

"Would we be allowed to go up there at all?" he asked, gesturing to the door that lead into the tower.

"Sorry, it's not safe."

"Actually not safe, or just not open to the public?" Athos countered. "You should consider opening it up. I bet it would get you more visitors."

Celine sighed. "Probably, but we don't have the funds. We barely make enough on ticket sales as it is."

"I'll pay another twenty if you let me go up there?" Athos offered on impulse, and Celine stared at him.

"That’s kind, but I promise it's not that exciting." She was about to turn away with a shake of her head when something behind Athos caught her eye and she looked over his shoulder with an odd expression on her face.

He turned, and discovered Porthos had come up behind him. "I bet you'd like to see up the tower, right?" he said, figuring that as Porthos and Celine seemed to be at least acquaintances if not friends, that she'd be more likely to let him go up there than a complete stranger.

"Wouldn't mind," Porthos agreed. "Go on Celine, why not?"

"Why not? I could lose my job!" But she was obviously wavering, and after a quick look to make sure the rest of the group had gone out through the gate, she sighed. "Oh, alright then. Come on."

Celine took a heavy iron key from the bunch on her belt and unlocked the door, taking a pen torch out of her pocket. Inside, the steps were narrow and steep, and Athos was glad to discover that Porthos turned out to have a torch too, as it meant he could see where he was putting his feet.

At the top the sudden sunlight was blinding, and Athos blinked his vision clear before staring out across the fields in astonishment.

"Be careful," Celine ordered. "The glass is really thin and some of it's falling out. And the floor's not great, either. Stay near the steps, please."

"What an amazing view." Porthos turned a slow circle, looking out over the lake and the woods with pleasure. "Athos is right, you should open this up."

"Well, let me know when you win the lottery," Celine retorted, but she was smiling.

They both looked at Athos, who'd been oddly silent since they reached the top. He'd reached out to steady himself on the stair rail. The view matched so closely to his mental picture of it - his _dream_ of it - that he felt dizzy. 

"You okay?" Porthos asked, wondering with slight anxiety if it had been a good idea to encourage Celine to let a man he'd already caught trespassing to come up here. Athos had gone very pale, and Porthos suddenly wondered if he was affected by the height. He didn’t want the man to have some kind of attack up here.

"Maybe we'd better go back down, eh?" he suggested firmly. "Celine'll have another tour to get ready for."

Athos shook himself. "Sorry? Oh, yes. Yes, of course." He meekly followed Porthos back down the steps, and Celine locked up after them.

"Thank you for letting us see it," Athos said sincerely, digging another note out of his wallet and offering it to Celine.

"Oh. Thank you." She looked surprised, as if she hadn't expected him to keep his word. "And you're welcome. It was nice actually, to have someone to share it with for once." 

"Bet you've explored every inch of this place when there's no tourists about, eh?" Porthos said, and laughed when she coughed guiltily. He matched Athos' donation, and she smiled at him, before looking between the two of them curiously.

"Are you two together?"

"Uh, no, we only just met," Athos said, blushing. He suspected she only meant had they arrived on the tour together, but given that his introduction to Porthos had been to fall into his arms, it was a little near the mark.

"Oh. That's weird." 

"What is?" Athos frowned and looked at Porthos, who shrugged.

"Just - did you notice the painting?" Celine asked.

"Which painting?" There'd been a lot of paintings, from various different periods, but Athos admittedly hadn't paid them much attention. It had been the house itself he was interested in, and most of the furniture and fittings had been imported from other places to dress it out.

Celine checked the time, and made up her mind. "Come and see."

She lead them back into the dining room, and to a small oil painting hanging in a dark corner out of direct sunlight.

"There. Um. What do you think?" She stepped back, and Athos and Porthos leaned in to examine it.

It depicted a group of three people, two men and a woman, posing formally against a backdrop of sparkling blue seas that definitely weren't European. Palm trees framed the view, and at their feet crouched an evil tempered looking cat and a small monkey on a leash.

It wasn't the incongruous setting that held their attention though. It was the fact that, hairstyles and period clothing aside, the people in the picture could have been the three people standing in the room.

"Fuck me." Porthos' bald statement broke the tension, and everybody laughed gratefully.

"It's not just me, is it?" Celine asked. "I'd never really made the connection with you before Porthos, although you've always reminded me of someone. But when I saw you two together - I suddenly realised why you looked familiar."

"It's uncanny," Athos said quietly. "Who are they?"

"He's supposed to be the Comte de la Fère," Celine told him, pointing to the figure that bore a striking resemblance to Athos. "He owned this house at one point. His ancestors had it built. I've never been able to find out who the others were, the guidebook says they were probably just his staff. But - "

"But?" Athos encouraged her.

"Well, it wasn't like taking a selfie, was it? Sitting for a portrait - that was a considerable investment, of time and money. You wouldn't do it for people that didn't mean anything to you." 

"That's true." Athos nodded. 

"I loved that picture when I was little," Celine admitted. "It always felt like it was calling to me. It's why I came to work here, I think. So I could look at it whenever I wanted, even though the job doesn't pay much. I used to fantasise that it was really me, or my ancestor or something. Just pretend it was, mind." She hesitated. "Only then you two walk in."

She gave a shiver, and a nervous laugh. "Sorry. You must think I'm bonkers."

"Not at all," Athos murmured. Even so he wasn't quite ready to share his own reasons for being here yet, and looked at Porthos for a distraction.

Porthos was peering at the picture again, and frowning. 

"What's the matter?" Athos asked.

"Just wondering why it's the black guy that's got the monkey," Porthos muttered.

"Maybe he liked monkeys?" Athos suggested. "You don't know. Maybe it was his dearest wish to have a pet monkey."

Porthos eyed him stonily, not entirely willing to laugh. "Why would anyone want a bloody monkey?"

"Are you kidding? A monkey would be amazing," Athos persisted, heartily wishing he'd kept his mouth shut and ploughing on regardless. "I dunno, I mean, you could teach it to nick stuff."

Both Porthos and Celine gave a snort of laughter at that, and despite thinking that it hadn't actually been that funny, Athos breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"Where are they supposed to be?" Athos asked, hurriedly changing the subject. "I mean that's not round here, is it?"

"Best guess has it as the Caribbean," said Celine. "Apparently the picture came up at auction in the States and the previous owner of the house picked it up for a knock-down price, when he realised the connection."

"How did la Fère end up out there?" Athos wondered, staring once more at the picture and suppressing the urge to shiver. It really could have been himself looking back at him.

"Probably a bloody plantation owner," Porthos muttered, still feeling irritable about the monkey, but Celine shook her head.

"Oh, no. Legend has it that he had to flee the country because he was wanted by the law. Apparently it turned out he was a highwayman."

They both looked duly impressed by this. "Is the owner around at all?" Athos asked. "I'd quite like to talk to him."

"Sorry, no, he died some years ago. The house is run as a Trust now. Look, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to go and meet the next group, I just wanted to show you. Weird coincidence though, huh?"

Athos and Porthos walked out to the car park together.

"Well. Thanks again for saving my life," Athos smiled. "That seems a bit inadequate somehow."

Porthos laughed. "All in a day's work. Try not to fall out of any more buildings though, okay?"

"I promise." Athos watched Porthos drive off and got into his own car with a slight shake of his head. He'd come here trying to disprove a silly feeling, and ended up with more questions than he'd started with. Parts of the building had felt so familiar he'd got goosebumps walking through them, and as for that painting, well. He didn't know what to make of that.

He remembered Celine had mentioned it was in the guidebook and pulled it out of his pocket. He was hoping for a photo but was out of luck, there was just a two-line description of it that told him no more than he already knew.

Athos was briefly tempted to go round again on the next tour, but decided that might look a bit obsessive. He didn't want to scare Celine into thinking he was some kind of stalker. He sighed, wishing now that he had confided in her about his dream. 

He started the engine and drove back into the village, noting the ruins of the castle as he went past. This seemed a nice village, more of a small town really, but sleepy and pleasant with it. He tried to imagine it hundreds of years ago, then he tried to imagine himself as a highwayman, but gave up, laughing. He just couldn't see it, somehow.

\--

That evening when Athos came down for dinner he discovered to his surprise that Celine was working behind the bar. She greeted him cheerfully, and explained that with the tour guide job paying so little and only being three days a week, she needed a second job to make ends meet.

There were several other customers waiting to be served, so not wanting to take up her time Athos gave his order and retreated to an out of the way table. He had just polished off a very nice plateful of fish and chips when the outer door opened and Porthos came in. 

The room wasn't overly noisy, but Athos could have sworn the noise level dipped when Porthos walked in. Celine was friendly enough as she served him, but Athos noticed a group of older local men in particular eyeing Porthos with slight suspicion. The mood wasn't exactly hostile but neither was it welcoming, and Athos was puzzled. They'd greeted him warmly enough as a stranger, so it wasn't that. 

Porthos looked around the bar, possibly in search of a friendlier face and finally caught sight of Athos, who immediately waved him over.

"Hello," Porthos said, gratefully taking the seat Athos pushed out towards him. "Didn't expect to see you again."

"I'm just here for the night," Athos explained. "I go home tomorrow."

"Places to be, buildings to fall out of, that sort of thing?" Porthos asked with a grin.

Athos laughed. "You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"

Porthos toasted him with his pint glass. "You never did tell me what you were doing up there," he said.

Athos hesitated. "If I tell you, you'll think I'm nuts," he said cautiously.

"Hit me. Can't be any more peculiar than seeing both of us in a three hundred year old painting," Porthos declared, settling back.

"That's true." Athos sighed, weighing up the pros and cons. On the plus side, if Porthos thought he was crazy, there was a very good chance he'd never see him again after tonight. "Alright. But you have to promise not to laugh at me."

Athos told him about his recurring dream, and how the house had felt so familiar, including the view from the tower, and his reasoning behind breaking through the door upstairs.

To his relief, Porthos listened without mocking, and his only comment at the end was to ask Athos if he'd checked the floor plan.

"How do you mean?" 

"You've got the guidebook, yeah? You said you wanted to know what kind of room was on the other side of that door - well the original floor plan’s in the guidebook. It would show you."

Athos stared at him, embarrassed. "I never thought of that." 

"Less hazardous, certainly," Porthos grinned. "Unless you're prone to paper cuts."

"What do you make of it, honestly?" Athos pressed. "Am I crazy?"

Porthos shrugged. "Who am I to say? But then what could it be, other than coincidence? Are you suggesting it's, like, reincarnation or something? Because if so I've never had dreams about that house. And I reckon Celine would have said, if she had."

"I don't know." Athos sighed. "But is it that unlikely? I mean, there's millions of people who believe in reincarnation as part of their religion, right?" 

"Yeah, but that's more like coming back as a cat or something isn't it?" Porthos pointed out. "Or development of the soul. I don't think any of them are arguing for exact physical replication. That'd be more genetics, surely?"

"Well, if he was anything like me I doubt the Comte had any kids to pass his genes on to in the first place," Athos smirked.

"No?" Porthos looked him over, wondering if that meant what he thought it did. 

"Not likely to happen," Athos murmured. "Not really my area."

"Nor mine," Porthos added after a second, and Athos looked at him speculatively. These days there wasn't really anything stopping you from having kids if you wanted them, gay or not, but it did serve as a useful shorthand in some cases. 

He realised Porthos was surreptitiously checking him out, and hid a smile in his wineglass. It was only his second, but somehow he felt as giddy as if he'd drunk an entire bottle. Porthos was incredibly attractive, and while Athos didn't rank himself particularly highly in the looks department, he was at least willing to concede that he might be the best bet in this particular village.

"So, what do you do?" Athos asked, when the silence had stretched out a little awkwardly. He'd only meant it as an idle conversation filler, but Porthos suddenly looked rather like a rabbit in the headlights. 

"Um. Does it matter?"

"Well, no, not really," Athos conceded. "Except now I'm intrigued, because the fact you don't want to tell me suggests it's something embarrassing." He smirked. "Stripper? Underwear salesman? Highwayman?"

That got a laugh out of Porthos. "None of those. No, it's not really embarrassing, it's just - something people can be a bit funny about," he sighed. "Once they know, they never really treat you the same way afterwards."

"Proctologist," suggested Athos, and Porthos nearly spat beer across the table.

"You're an idiot. What do you do, anyway?"

"Academic," Athos answered promptly. "Historian. Currently on a twelve month sabbatical to write a book. Nice try, your turn."

Porthos sighed, swilling his beer around in the bottom of the glass. "Fine. I'm a policeman, okay?"

"A policeman?" Athos echoed, raising his eyebrows. "Oh. Right." Suddenly a lot of things made sense, like the borderline suspicion Porthos was getting from the locals, and why he and Celine had laughed so much at Athos' suggestion you could make a monkey steal things. And - 

"Oh God, that's why you followed me upstairs today," Athos said with dawning realisation. "I thought you were just taking the opportunity for a nose around, but you actually followed me."

"Yeah," Porthos admitted sheepishly. "I just needed to make sure you weren't going to set fire to the place or something."

"Fuck," Athos said with feeling, then clapped a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

Porthos snorted. "It's not actually illegal to swear you know. Not even in front of the law." He looked pleading. "Please don't go weird on me. I was just getting to like you."

That gave Athos pause for thought. "Really?"

"Yeah," said Porthos softly. He finished his beer and held Athos' gaze meaningfully.

Athos cleared his throat. "You know, that guidebook's up in my room. We could - go and check out that floor plan."

"That's a good idea," Porthos murmured. "Maybe see if there's anything in there about him having descendants, too."

"Good thinking." Athos got to his feet. "Shall I, ah - buy a bottle of wine?" Hoping that Porthos didn't just suggest they fetch the book and bring it back down to the bar to discuss things with Celine. But it seemed Porthos was firmly on his wavelength, and nodded immediately. 

"That sounds good. Do you want some money for it?"

"No, don't worry, I'll stick it on my tab." Athos went over to the bar and asked for a bottle of red and two fresh glasses to take up to his room.

Celine refrained from making comment, but did give him a wink as she handed them over, and when he rejoined Porthos Athos knew he was blushing.

"Shall we?" he asked quietly, and Porthos nodded, following him out of the bar and up the stairs. 

\--

They'd barely got through the door before they were kissing. 

Athos had handed the wine and glasses to Porthos so he could unlock his room, and followed him inside. By the time he'd closed the door behind them, Porthos had put down the wine on the chest of drawers and turned back to him, so before Athos knew what was happening those big strong arms were around him and Porthos' tongue was in his mouth.

Not that he was objecting. Athos had assumed there'd be a certain amount of awkward dancing around each other before they got to this stage, but apparently not.

The first kiss showed no signs of stopping, and by the time they did eventually break off Athos was breathless and half-laughing. 

"You don't waste any time, do you?" he smiled, pressed snugly up against Porthos' body, his arms around Porthos' neck.

"You said you were going home tomorrow, there's not much time to waste," Porthos pointed out, feathering more small kisses over Athos' lips, before suddenly pausing, looking more unsure of himself. "This is okay?"

"Yes. Of course," Athos reassured him, kissing Porthos on the mouth with a smile. "I like a man who knows what he wants."

Porthos gave a deep laugh of delight and they were off again, kissing like their lives depended on it, as if they needed each other more than air itself.

It seemed silly to keep standing up when the bed was right there and somehow in no time at all they were both lying full length on it, still kissing. 

When Athos felt hands on his shirt buttons he pushed his own underneath Porthos' sweatshirt, taking this as permission to touch. He explored the warm skin beneath with pleasure, hoping he was about to see a whole lot more of him. Sure enough, as soon as Porthos had managed to get Athos' shirt open all the way down he sat up and peeled off his own.

They'd already kicked off their shoes, and now lying chest to bare chest it seemed inevitable that their jeans would shortly follow suit. Athos could feel Porthos' erection nudging against his own every time they moved, like a promise of things to come.

This was crazy, Athos thought. They'd only just met, he didn't even know Porthos' last name, and yet here he was considering having sex with him. More than considering in fact, by this point if it didn't happen he'd be gutted. 

With a brief glance up to check it was alright, Porthos started unzipping him and Athos lifted his hips obligingly to let Porthos pull his jeans right down. As soon as they were off he returned the favour, finally giving in to temptation and letting his hand caress the bulge in Porthos' boxers.

Porthos gave a groan of approval and pushed Athos back down to the bed, climbing on top of him and this time not even trying to disguise the way he was rubbing against him.

In all this time they'd barely exchanged a word, but then again it hadn't seemed necessary. Both seemed to know instinctively what the other liked, and there'd been none of the awkwardness or hesitation there often was the first time you slept with somebody new. 

Ten minutes later and the pants were off too. They pushed the duvet back to wriggle into the bed properly, and came back together with a shiver of pleasure. 

"Did you want to...?" Porthos let the thought trail off hopefully, and Athos nodded.

"Yes. God yes."

Porthos grinned happily. "Good." He kissed Athos again, open-mouthed and hungry for him. "I think I've got a condom," he added, "but have you got any lube?"

Athos had to make an effort to concentrate, and realised with a slight shock that if Porthos hadn't said anything he'd have been entirely willing to let the man fuck him bareback. What the hell was he thinking? He wasn't that drunk on two small glasses of wine, surely?

"Yes, yes I think so," Athos stammered, realising Porthos was still waiting for his answer. "In my spongebag, hang on." He climbed off the bed and stumbled into the bathroom, taking the opportunity to splash some cold water on his face. 

He stared at himself in the mirror. This wasn't like him, normally he was so excruciatingly bad at relationships that his partners went off in disgust before they even got round to the sex part. He'd never met someone he felt such an immediate connection with before. 

Grabbing his washbag he hurried back to where Porthos was waiting for him in the bed.

"Okay?" Porthos asked quietly, and Athos smiled at him, his rising tension slipping away again. It was strange given they barely knew each other, but somehow he felt utterly safe with Porthos.

"Yeah," he said, joining Porthos back under the duvet. "Here, lube, and condoms if you want?"

"Oh, great, yeah." Porthos gave him a sheepish grin. "Probably in better condition than the one that's been knocking around in my wallet. It's been there a while."

Athos nodded, understanding that Porthos was telling him he didn't make a habit of sleeping around. Not that it really made a difference, but it was nice to know that maybe this odd feeling of urgency wasn't just him.

They kissed again before doing anything else, relaxing back into each other's arms and rediscovering each other all over again. This time the building tension was all arousal, and Athos surrendered to Porthos' hands without anxiety. 

When Porthos finally took him it was sheer heaven. Athos lay on his back, legs splayed wantonly while Porthos pushed inside him, and both of them moaned their approval. 

Once he was all the way in and satisfied that Athos was happy, Porthos started fucking him at a furious pace. The force of it took Athos by surprise and he cried out in startled pleasure, wrapping his all limbs around Porthos and encouraging him deeper.

Gasping for breath they fucked each other to a standstill, bodies slick with sweat and lips sore from so much kissing. Athos came first, unable to hold back any longer under the onslaught and spilling over his belly with a drawn-out groan of satisfaction. Porthos came soon after, biting down hard on Athos' shoulder as he climaxed and making Athos shudder violently against him as they both rode it out.

Afterwards they lay limply in each other's arms, barely able to move for several minutes. Athos had his head on Porthos' shoulder, an arm around his chest, and Porthos was idly playing with his hair.

"Wow," said Athos faintly, having recovered his breath but not entirely his ability to speak.

Porthos grinned at him, and his expression was all fondness rather than triumph. 

"Was that okay?"

Athos gave an incredulous laugh. "I would say that was very definitely more than okay. That was - amazing. Fuck." 

Porthos laughed too, and hugged him. "It was, wasn't it."

They lay there peacefully for a while, then Athos remembered the wine, and fetched it over to the bed. They sat up close to each other, shoulders and legs touching, and drank each other's health.

"I don't normally do this sort of thing you know," Athos murmured. "Jump into bed with someone I've just met, I mean."

"Me neither," agreed Porthos. "Must be something in the air."

They smiled at each other. 

"Porthos - do you believe in reincarnation?" Athos asked after a pause. He wondered whether bringing this up again would exasperate Porthos, but he couldn’t stop dwelling on it.

Porthos hesitated. "If you'd asked me that yesterday I'd have said no," he said slowly.

"And now?"

"I don't know." Porthos sighed. "It could all still be coincidence you know."

"Even the picture?"

Porthos grinned. "You've seen the painting that proves Keanu Reeves is a vampire right?"

Athos laughed. "Maybe it doesn't. Maybe it proves reincarnation instead. Anyway, that's just one person, and there's three of us."

"Three people with no connection," Porthos pointed out.

"Until we came together in that house," Athos countered. 

"There's no dissuading you, is there"? Porthos smiled, and Athos flushed.

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

Porthos put an arm round him. "No. I just don't see what it proves either way. What are you suggesting, that we were destined to shag each other? What about Celine? I mean, she's not here, is she? Or are you saying you want a threesome?"

Athos hesitated. "Not really into girls, if I'm honest."

Porthos gave a sigh of relief. "Thank fuck for that." He kissed Athos on the lips, and they both spluttered with laughter.

"Do you have to go home tomorrow?" Porthos asked.

"I do, I'm afraid," Athos sighed. "I have a meeting I can't miss."

"Oh, right. Fair enough." Porthos nodded, taking this as Athos indicating he only wanted this to be a one night stand, but Athos looked at him consideringly.

"I really do have an appointment," he said quietly. "But I - could come back. If you wanted, that is?"

Porthos stared at him. "I'd like that," he ventured. "If it's what you wanted too?"

"It is, I think," said Athos. "This is maybe crazy, but - I feel like I've known you forever." He gave a self-conscious laugh. "Oh God, I promise you I'm not some kind of past-life fixated nutcase."

Porthos grinned. "Even if you are, you're a very cute one. And you fuck like a minx." 

Athos laughed and set aside his wineglass, pulling Porthos back down into his arms.

"Will you stay the night?" he asked.

"If you want me to?" Porthos smiled. 

"Definitely."

Conversation lapsed for a while in favour of more kissing.

"Will you really come back?" Porthos asked finally, propping himself up on his elbow and looking down at Athos with a hopeful smile.

"As soon as I can," Athos promised.

"You can stop with me, if you want," Porthos offered. "As long as you don't mind staying in the police house."

Athos smirked. "You can show me your handcuffs."

Porthos rolled his eyes with a snort of laughter. "Thank you at least for not making a joke about my extendable baton."

"Get that a lot do you?" Athos enquired with a sympathetic grin. 

"Not as often as I'd like, to be fair." Porthos let his hand drift under the duvet and started playing with Athos' soft cock.

"Only gay in the village, huh?" 

Porthos laughed. "It's not quite that bad, but pretty much. There's a couple of others that I know of, but they're just that - a couple."

"Why did you come here?" Athos asked curiously, stretching pleasurably and starting to react to Porthos' fondling.

Porthos sighed. "It seemed like a good idea. Promotion, you know? In charge, on my own and stuff. Except nothing ever happens here, and most of the locals are still suspicious of me. City boy, see? Accent's all wrong. Amongst other things."

Athos kissed him softy. "Everything looks perfect to me."

"I'm glad you came here," Porthos blurted. Athos smiled, surprised and flattered.

"I'm glad you chose today to take the tour of the house," he murmured. "Otherwise I'd be at the bottom of the lake right now."

"Maybe it is fate after all," Porthos said. "Or destiny, or some shit like that."

"You accept we have an unnatural connection then?" Athos smirked.

Porthos cackled, and rolled them over until Athos was lying on top of him. 

"Right now the only unnatural connection I'm interested in is your cock in my arse," he declared happily. "How about it?"

Athos kissed him. "I believe the phrase you're looking for," he suggested with a grin, "is 'stand and deliver'."

\--

**Author's Note:**

> The house, incidentally, is based (very loosely) on [Scotney Castle](http://bullfarmoast.co.uk/assets/attractions/scotney/scotney-gardens1.jpg).


End file.
